Yesterday afternoon, my Daisy crossed the Rainbow Bridge. I remember fondly, fifteen years ago, when I was considering adopting my very first dog, visiting the home of a foster family taking care of a trio of adorable German Shepherd three-month-olds. As I kneeled down to get an eye-level view of the pups, the female--a spindly and delicate, tan brindle girl--crawled under me for a reprieve from her larger, more rambunctious brothers. And like the guy who suddenly has the prettiest girl in the bar saying hello to him, I melted. I named her Daisy, after the character Daisy Buchanan of my favorite novel,...